"Fucking crabs," Hael hissed between his teeth as he picked through his pubes. The ice lice had latched onto the skin around his cock and were giving him more than a headache. "Fucking Catarons. 'Clean and cheap'? Yeah fucking right." Hael lifted a louse from his skin and crushed it between his thumb and forefinger. It was a good feeling.
Suddenly, Hael almost tripped over the pants around his ankles as the ship shook violently. Falling against the wall of the stall, Hael swore violently. Seconds later, the ship shook again, and groaned like a pregnant colph. The lurching knocked Hael to the floor and his hand smacked into his balls.
"Fuck!" Hael snarled, getting his ass off the cold bathroom tiles. His groin was screaming in pain. It was enough to make Hael lean over and pant out breaths for a few moments. He could have sworn that his vision blurred a few times. The blasted white lighting in the bathroom and the pain in his groin made Hael feel like retching up his rations.
Slowly, Hael managed to get up and dress himself. The crabs could wait until he worked out what the damn eel of a captain had driven the ship into. Coming out of the stall, Hael went to the door, fumbling with his belt to get it done up. Just as his hand reached towards the door handle, a sound he hadn't heard in years thundered through the door; the sound of gunfire. Listening against the door, Hael caught the sound of running feet, a few muffled grunts and someone yelling. Punctuating this was the familiar sound of pulse rifles and pistols.
Hael thought about what to do. An instinct he had thought was long dead made him reach up to his ear towards an comm earpiece that he no longer wore. Hael swore to himself. Even in the military, the officers on the other end of the comm link were rarely any help. As Hael waited, he heard the gunfire start to subside.
"Did you see those cowards run? Like shooting Hexes in a duct!" someone shouted from behind the door. They weren't from Security; the eels in Security only spoke Techaran to each other.
"Shoulda set your rifle to stun," someone replied. "We ain't getting paid for dead bodies."
"What's in here?"
"Toilets. Don't you read?"
"I read credits."
"They're numbers, shitdick."
Hael heard the sound of a scuffle.
"You check the toilets. We'll see who's a shitdick."
Hael looked around. He was in the open; they'd shoot him on sight. His instincts took over and he snuck into the second toilet stall from the door.
The toilet door swung open and Hael heard footsteps. There was a loud bang as the first stall's door was kicked open. Quick as a flash, Hael bolted around the stall and wrapped his arm around a man's neck. It all happened so quickly, he barely had time to notice the two curled horns sticking out of the Cataron's forehead. Seeing that only made Hael tightened his grip on the man's neck. The man struggled, his rifle falling to the floor. Amateur, Hael thought. The Cataron's hands were clenched onto Hael's forearm while the man tried to headbutt him with his horns. Hael moved his head to the side and kicked out the man's legs. He dropped low like a sack of grain and Hael used all the strength he could muster to hold the man in the chokehold.
After a few more seconds of struggling, the Cataron's brain lost air and he passed out. Hael looked around the bathroom. Who was this guy? He knew nothing. If he killed him... Hael grabbed the limp body and hoisted him onto the toilet seat. Pulling off the man's belt, Hael bound the Cataron to the toilet bowl. Hael admired his work until his eyes drifted to the man's gun on the floor. A new M-34 Hemorrhage Assault Rifle. Hael's hands flexed. He could already feel the gun's cold stock against his chest and its moulded grip in his hand. There was no use trying to resist the urge; seconds later, the gun was in Hael's hands. The grip was still warm from the other guy, but the gun looked in good shape. There wasn't time to take it apart and rebuild it piece by piece as Hael would have liked.
"Have you-" a voice began to say as someone pushed open the bathroom door. There was only a split second to see the shock in the Cataron's eyes as Hael pointed the gun and fired. The action was triggered by pure instinct, Hael's slight squeeze on the trigger and the gun's forceful response. Hael hadn't realised just how much he missed that feeling.
A cascade of bright green comets burst out of the gun's barrel, flying clean through the door and the person holding it open. The gun must have been modded to fire some extra compound in its shots; the green wasn't a natural colour for the bullets of Hemorrhages. Maybe a plasma coating? Hael didn't know. He could hear hissing sounds as the heated shots punctured the Cataron's body. The man stumbled forwards, slipping as he used his gun for support. Hael lowered his rifle as he watched the man's blood seep out of the many holes in his chest. Checking for more gunmen, Hael moved so that he could see through the open toilet door. What he saw was a mess. Bodies - about a dozen in total - lined the corridor. Nearly all of them were in Security uniforms, seeping dark green Techaran blood onto the scuffed metal floor. Hael couldn't see much else, apart from the pockmarks of stray bullets on the walls.
Reaching down to the man on the floor, Hael dragged him out of the doorway, leaving a trail of dark red blood. He'd heard that Catarons used to be monkeys like Humans, which was supposedly why the two species looked so similar. Hael couldn't think why a monkey would need antlers, though. The defining feature of all Catarons was their pair of bony horns on their forehead.
Hael took another look outside the bathroom. The corridor was silent, but there was noise coming from further along in the storage bay. Hael looked himself over. These gunmen couldn't have come alone. They were dressed in shabby leather outfits that looked so different to each other that there was no way they were part of any cohesive unit. Hael suddenly remembered the shaking. Had something docked with the ship? Pirates? It would explain the noises in the hold. Either way, he had to move. The toilets weren't exactly defendable. He didn't care so much about the ship's stores - the company had plenty of insurance - but he had no plans to go down with the ship.
Hael thought about where to go. The toilet block on Deck 7 was about as far back as you could get. The only way out was past the storage bays. Hael looked himself over. He was in his bright yellow crewman pants with a reflective yellow shirt; the heavy lifting drones in the storage bays were programmed to avoid the colour yellow. There was no way he would get anywhere unnoticed. He looked down at the Security bodies in the hallway. The Techara were wearing ablative body armour under their Security vests. Hael grabbed the least-damaged body - some idiot who'd got himself shot in the head - and pulled off his clothes. Even though the armoured vest would provide Hael with a better chance of surviving, he discarded it; it was the pirate equivalent of a target sign. Hael had to peel the underarmour off of the dead Techara, his blood sticking it to his leathery green skin. Hael had never seen a Techara without clothes on before; they looked so much like sea monsters that Hael figured that they must have been barely attractive to their own kind. The dead Techara's skin was a mottled light green colour with black spots all over the place and small fleshy pimple-like lumps that ran in symmetrical patterns down its chest. Instead of smooth Human or Cataron skin that Hael had seen - and felt - this Techara had ribbing all the way down his torso, like its skin was actually made of overlapping plates. Size-wise, the Techara's shoulders were probably about as big and wide as Hael's, but their waist was a good deal thinner. Hael was thankful that the underarmour was stretchy.
Hael threw his yellow shirt aside and pulled the underarmour on over his regulation-issue singlet designed to prevent chaffing. The tight black combat mesh molded to his well-kept body as he looked for something to throw over the top. Looking over at the dead Security officers, Hael realised that the Techara's wide, three-toed feet and their short tails made their pants almost unwearable to humans. The Catarons, on the other hand...
Minutes later, Hael was dressed in the dead Cataron's beige slacks, that came complete with knee protectors, the toughened leather jacket off the unconscious Cataron and the underarmour weave. He was beginning to feel a little bit more at home in the tight compress of military-grade armour. Grabbing the modded Hemhorrage and a bunch of spare clips, Hael crept out into the corridor.
"Gnarl!" a panic-stricken Techara screamed over the ship-wide PA, before he was silenced by a wet tearing sound and a guttural howl. Hael looked around, but the speakers were built into the walls. Suddenly the PA crackled with static. Hael had heard of Gnarl. Taken off their homeworld centuries ago by the Catarons for use as war beasts, the Gnarl were metre-tall pack hunters. Hunched on all fours with sickly grey skin, the Gnarl had two powerful forearms and two stumpy back legs. All of their hands or feet - Hael didn't know which one was correct - were able to grasp onto things like Hael's own hands. Above all of this, sat a small round head, where five beady black eyes punctuated a noseless face. Their mouth was a three-way slit that could open wide enough to swallow a whole arm in one go. They were the stuff of nightmares, or stories told to children to keep them in line.
And they were also a pain in the ass to shoot at.
Hael took a step before he heard the warbling sound. It was undecipherable primitive communication, but it was close. And it was behind him. Hael turned sharply to see a small grey head poking around the corner at the end of the corridor. Gnarl. It's mouth opened to reveal a dark triangle of throat before it howled like a dying thing. Suddenly, the damn things were pouring out from around the corner, too many to count. Hael's instincts took over. He held his finger on the trigger and sprayed the charging horde with green rain. The Hemhorrage pushed itself into Hael's chest as it barked out shot. With each spray, a gangly grey lumps would slide to the ground, but the tide was endless. Hael was counting the rough distance between him and the first of the Gnarl. It was approaching five metres, and falling with every second.
The Gnarl howled wordlessly and began jumping around the place, some hanging from pipes on the roof, other using anything on the walls to latch on to. Hael swore as he began spraying fire all over the corridor. The Hemhorrage was creeping towards overheat temperature. Hael would have killed for a grenade.
The Hemhorrage hissed as it stopping firing to cool down. Hael swore at it loudly. The Gnarl were getting close. He had nothing except his hunting knife. Hael pulled it out of his boot and waved it in the light. There was only a split second to think. He couldn't take them all down with a knife alone, nor could he run. Suddenly an idea flashed in his mind, it was suicidal but...
"Fuckers!" Hael roared as he ran towards the Gnarl, knife and Hemhorrage in his hands. He reached the first surprised creature. His bladed right hook slashed its throat apart. Anther Gnarl jumped off the wall for him and he beat it to the ground with the assault rifle, before firing another burst. Without both hands on the gun, the rifle recoiled upwards and its spray managed to catch another Gnarl perched on the ceiling. As Hael hacked another Gnarl apart, while it scrabbled at his legs, there was another loud warbling sound.
Suddenly, all of the Gnarl were loping back towards the cover of the corner; even they must put a value on the life of their pack members. Hael spat out a mouthful of blood and backed away from the pile of small grey corpses. A lookout's head appeared around the corner and made an interested sound. Hael stopped retreating and fired a short burst towards the creature's exposed head. He missed, but it ducked away.
Hael knew he had to get out of there; he couldn't take them all down alone. His head raced. Was there another way off the... Yes! There was a maintenance shaft to the Deck above. Hael fired another burst up the corridor, turned and ran towards the other end of the corridor. He could hear a victorious howl and the sound of hurried feet behind him, but it only pushed him to move faster.
He could see the shaft access only metres away. Willing his legs to move faster, Hael sprinted down the corridor.
Suddenly, he heard a huge crash and was knocked off his feet by something landing on him. Hael's eyes blurred in and out of focus. He was done for.